


Twas The Night Of The Apocalypse

by WhyArentIBlessd



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Crack, Christmas Eve, Christmas carol, Gen, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Song Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:11:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyArentIBlessd/pseuds/WhyArentIBlessd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clement Clarke Moore (1779 - 1863) wrote the poem "Twas the night before Christmas", also called "A Visit from St. Nicholas", in 1822. It is now the tradition in many American families to read the poem every Christmas Eve. And this year, I just screwed it all up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twas The Night Of The Apocalypse

Twas the night of the Apocalypse, and all through Bobby's yard

Not a creature was creeping; we'd set up a ward.

We'd hidden our selves and salted with care,

In hopes that Old Nicholas wouldn't find me there.

 

Our weapons were already right by our beds,

And we'd each tucked a few guns underneath our heads.

And Cas in his trenchcoat, and Dean in the car,

Had settled down early in preparation for war.

 

When all of a sudden there arose such a clatter,

That Dean, Cas and I wondered what was the matter.

Over to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore back the curtains and felt my breath catch.

 

The moon on the scrap cars all coated in snow

Gave the lustre of holy fire to objects below.

When what to my sleep-laden eyes should appear,

But a gold chariot, and an eight-legged deer.

 

With a short little driver, so lively and quick,

Realized at once that it could not be Nick.

More rapid than angels his monster it came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called it odd names!

 

"Now, Marsbar! now, Snickers! now, Aero and Reeses!

On, Smartie! On, Skittle! On, Babe Ruth and Twizzler!

Not the top of the porch! Damn it, don't hit the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

 

As harpies before the hunt's over will fly,

When they meet with a hunter, mount to the sky.

So up to the house-top that horror it flew,

With the sleigh full of God-knows, and that weirdo there too.

 

And then, in the racket I heard on the roof

That creep with the spider-deer hit the roof with an 'oof'.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

He came down the chimney with energy abound.

 

He wasn't dressed special, just a shirt and some jeans,

But emotions ran through me. I'd thought Gabe was dead.

A big duffel bag he had flung across his back,

And he looked like a drug dealer giving out crack.

 

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His sweet little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the hair of his head had a rich golden glow.

 

The stick of a sucker he held in his teeth,

And a leaf crown encircled his head like a wreath.

His collar was popped and he swaggered up closer,

Shaking with laughter when I called him "Imposter!"

 

He was as I remembered, the trickster himself,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!

A wink of his eye and a twist of his lip,

Preceded a tilt and the hand on his hip.

 

He talked and he talked, almost shirking his work,

Gave us all a new weapon, and turned 'round with a jerk.

And with one cocky grin directed at me,

He snapped his fingers and flew up the chimney!

 

He sprang into his cart, to his thing gave a whistle,

And away they both flew like a deadly heat missle.

But I heard him shout back, as he flew out of sight,

"Merry Christmas, you dopes, gank some demons tonight!"


End file.
